Plunge-worthy

As a long-time Cape Codder, I’ve grown accustomed to packing up my family and heading to the beach. What made yesterday’s excursion a bit unusual was that the January temperature was a balmy 35 degrees Fahrenheit.

It was New Year’s Day, and I was determined to flip the calendar in an emphatic fashion. This may explain how I found myself at the beach on a cool winter day wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks and staring out at icy ocean waves. There was a nip in the air. (Two, in fact.) The sand that scorches my overly-sensitive feet every summer was now freezing them into numb, painful blocks.

I was well aware of the “Polar Plunge” – a sensational event where people of questionable judgment head to the water and immerse themselves with an icy dunk. It always seemed like fun, but I’d never actually tried it myself. I’m not about to let 2012 be a year of “what might have been” when it holds so much potential to be a year of “what got done”. I had to plunge.

Since earning the title of “Father of the Year” is not one of my 2012 goals, I issued my icy challenge to my three unfortunate children. My twelve year-old daughter and ten year-old son answered the call. My youngest daughter – clearly the brains of the operation – declined instantly. Fortunately, our faithful chocolate lab pup happily took her place.

It was time. I let out a shriek that was half adrenaline and half fear. “Let’s go!” We made a beeline for the water. The rule was simple: You had to go all in. This isn’t a year of dipping in a toe or wading in up to your waist and calling it a day. This is 2012. It’s time for us to make our stand.

I bounded into the water and dove in headfirst. A chilly rush of excitement and pain seared my brain. I attempted a stroke or two, but my normally poor aquatic skills had become even more inept. I stood up in the shallow water and threw my arms up in triumph. I felt alive. I felt renewed. I felt frozen.

I huddled with my chilly children in celebration. We toweled off and put on warm dry clothes. Our pooch went back in the icy water 10 more times, thus proving that it’s impossible to experience brain freeze when you in fact have no brain.

The adventure only lasted an instant, but the New Year was officially off with a brrrr.

This brings us to a much more important subject: Your 2012. What are you going to do to send yourself a clear message that it’s time to get to work on your goals? You have the opportunity to draw a figurative line in the sand that says, “I have a whole year to accomplish some really great things – it starts now!”

Thankfully, you don’t have to expose yourself to hypothermia to get the party started. (Exposing yourself is entirely optional in 2012.) The key is to make the mental leap to a constructive, determined mindset. You can accomplish some really amazing things in a year. Don’t let a moment of it slip away, never to return.

I want you to have a fantastic 2012. I want you to dream big dreams and set big goals for yourself. This year, I want you to be optimistic and inspired and confident and nervous and consumed and brave and energized and determined. I want you to be at your best – nothing less.

As always, you’re welcome to share your inspiring 2012 kickoff ideas, dreams, goals, or challenges with me at anytime at mattyp@goalsgonewild at facebook.com/goalsgonewild or by tweeting me @MattyPhD. We’re all in this together.

I wish you success in this New Year, and thanks so much for letting me be a small part of it!

Breakfast Blend

I hadn’t been awake more than twenty minutes, and I was already staring down my first crisis of the day. This was unusual, as most problems at my house don’t begin until after 8:00AM. Sure, my kids were snoozing now, but they were about to wake up, and when they did, they were going to expect to be fed. (Kids these days.) Unfortunately, life had been particularly hectic recently and grocery shopping just hadn’t happened.

As a dutiful and over-caffeinated husband, it’s my job to forage for coffee in the morning. Fortunately, eons of evolution have prepared me well for my role as a hunter slash gatherer of lattes and mochachinos. Bifocal eyes for spotting baristas in the distance. Keen sense of smell for detecting the aroma of toasted almond. I’m the total package. The current situation called for more than coffee, though. It was up to me to gather actual food.

After a quick java stop at Marylou’s, I sped off to the grocery store. I slammed my foot down on the rubber mat and burst through the automatic sliding doors. I strode past the produce. No time for idle chit chat with the deli staff. My family needed me to come through! After a brief stop at the lobster tank (ew, creepy), I pressed on.

Next stop: frozen foods. I stocked up on Eggo Waffles, Toaster Scrambles, Toaster Strudels, pretty much anything that can go into a toaster. In my book, any application of heat to food constitutes cooking, and that’s about as far as the primitive food preparation part of my brain can take me.  Plus, the missus was still asleep, so I had no specific orders. I was free to run amok, so I did.

When I pulled into the driveway, I saw three pajamaed figures looking gaunt and pathetic in the window. Their eyes lit up when I emerged from my car with the morning’s bounty.  I was hailed just as all the breakfast bearing champions had been at the ancient Coliseum. (Toastimus! Toastimus!)

The sun was shining on Aunt Jemima that fine day, my friends.

It was a good three hours before I realized I hade made a serious error. The problem with breakfast is that it’s followed by lunch. As morning gave way to midday, I heard the dreaded question. “Dad, what’s for lunch?” I sighed as I stared into the empty cupboards. Still nothing to eat.

My shopping excursion had been short sighted. I was completely focused on the “Here and now” as opposed to thinking about the inevitable “What next?”. The same thing happens to many of us when we think about the goals we’d like to pursue. We often favor “Here and now” goals that would bring about positive changes and fulfill our most pressing desires.

In order to be successful today and tomorrow, we need to balance our short-term and our long-term goals. We need to find a blend of goals that works.

Who likes quick and fun exercises? I just happen to have one right here. Write down the personal goals that you expect to achieve in the next:

• 3 months
• 6 months
• 1 year
• 5 years
• 10 years

Scoring: Give yourself 1 point for each timeframe you can fill with at least one goal.

Here’s a non-scientific assessment of your score:

• 0 points: You don’t have any clear goals, huh? Well, there’s no better time to start than today. Make it a point to develop a single goal – no matter how small – before the end of the day. Success is a habit and you need to be more explicit about what you’re going to accomplish in life rather than hoping for the best.
• 1-2 points: It’s good that you have clear goals, but take a look at where they fall on the time scale. If they were near-term goals, think a bit further out and try to develop some longer-term objectives. If your only goals are long-term goals, you may run the risk of burnout. Set some short-term goals to get regular doses of winning along the way!
• 3-4 points: Very nice balance. Why not decide which category is missing a goal and think about what you might like to achieve in that timeframe? You’re clearly a goal-setting pro, so go for it! (This was my score, by the way. I need a better 10-year goal other than “learn to use the microwave”.)
• 5 points: Excellent work! You’ve clearly put a lot of thought into those things you’re working to achieve today, tomorrow, and the next day. You’re well on your way to lasting success.

The smart play would’ve been to think about the week’s meal plan, create a proper shopping list, and do it right. This is, of course, what my lovely bride did after she woke up. (Show off.) Next time, I’ll try to put more forethought into my shopping list.

But first, I’m going to make sure my “goals list” is just as complete.

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Set short-term, mid-term, and long-term goals for maximum success today, tomorrow, and the next day.

Pay Day

I have a peculiar habit of departing for the airport well before any reasonable human would. My beloved wife never misses an opportunity to mock me on this point. This past Monday, I grabbed my suitcase and inched toward the door. By my calculation, I’d arrive at Boston’s Logan Airport 90 minutes before my domestic flight with only my carry-on luggage. No stress, no worries. She flashed me a wry smile. “Cutting it a little close, aren’t you?”

As luck would have it, my hyper-punctuality proved extremely useful. For some inexplicable reason, my otherwise uneventful drive to the airport bogged down in the final mile. When I first stopped, I didn’t panic. I simply thought, “Who’s laughing now, Little Miss Laughs at the Early Man?” It was a small moment to be sure, but one I savored all the same. After 20 minutes, though, I hadn’t moved more than a car length. My thoughts quickly changed to “Oh crap. I might miss this flight.”

After the traffic finally broke, I raced into the Central Parking garage. I grabbed my ticket from the front gate, and I drove up the spiral concrete ramps toward the open parking levels. The upper level ramps were blocked, so I was forced onto Level 3, the Boston Marathon level. I usually park on levels 4 and up, but whatever. I was in a hurry.

Suddenly, I ran into a problem. Concrete barriers blocked my access to the spaces that were nearest my terminal. I was forced to drive in the opposite direction, and I finally parked in the adjacent garage. I stopped the car, grabbed my luggage, and walked briskly across the connecting bridge.

As I passed through the barriers and approached the terminal, I was frustrated to see dozens and dozens of open parking spaces right outside the terminal doors. Why hadn’t I been allowed to park where I wanted, particularly when I was in such a hurry? I stopped to ask the parking attendant what gives. He informed me that those spaces were reserved for PASSport Gold parking members, and because I hadn’t paid for the privilege of parking there, it wasn’t going to happen. I can’t be sure, but I think he also threw in a muffled comment about my stylish wheelie.

Inside the terminal, I got my boarding pass, breezed through security, and arrived at the gate. By the time it was my turn to get on – I think I was in Zone 37 or something equally ridiculous – I lumbered past the First Class passengers. They had been sitting comfortably for some time. Some were on their second gin and tonic, and I swear one woman had just been treated to a killer mani-pedi. They rolled their eyes in my general direction as if to say, “Would you mind stowing your little girl bag in the overhead bin so we can get going?”

I nestled into the coveted middle seat in row number “suck” toward the back of the plane. I looked at the weary coach passengers in the row in front of mine, and I immediately recognized one of them as none other than Mitt Romney. Now Mitt is a successful businessman, organizer of the 2002 Olympic Games in Salt Lake City, and a successful politician. What was he doing sitting with me next to the lavatory? The answer was immediately clear. On this particular flight, he hadn’t paid for the privilege of First Class treatment.

In reflecting on these two situations, I came to realize that “paying for the privilege” is an essential phenomenon in any goal pursuit. Nothing worth having in life is given away for free. Fortunately, not all goals and aspirations cost money, but most require some combination of your time, energy, effort, and psychic oomph.

Here’s an example. For the past month, I’ve been waking up at 5AM almost every day. Each morning, I’ve popped a home fitness DVD into my MacBook so I can sweat to the oldies. I’ve also been trying to eat better, as well, opting for plenty of fruits and veggies while easing off the drinks and desserts.

The other day, I had just finished a morning workout. My young son looked at me and said, “You’re not as fat as you used to be.” Thanks, son. I now realize that I’ve clearly paid for that privilege. I’ve paid in the form of the sleep I’ve passed up, the delicious calories I’ve passed up, and a little sweat and soreness along the way.

Consider the most important change you’d like to make in your life. It might be related to your family, your career, your health, your wealth, your relationships, or whatever floats your boat. It’s important to have some focus here, since nobody can afford all the perks in life. Not me, not Mitt, and not you. So choose wisely.

Once you’ve chosen your goal, commit to yourself that you’ll pay for the privileges that accompany that goal attainment. When it comes to the Achievers Club, membership definitely has its privileges.

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Bodacious Tip:

Commit to pay for the privileges that will accompany your goal achievement.

Call Me, Ishmael

In days gone by, I was a salty sea dog. During my Marine Corps service, I spent some 15+ months at sea. That faithful taxi service known as the US Navy carted me throughout the Caribbean, the Mediterranean, and the Red Sea. That was a long time ago, however. My last 14 years have been spent almost exclusively as a land-lubber.

This week, I found myself prowling the high seas once again. Our point of launch was Fairhaven, Massachusetts, and we were on a quest for sailfish, swordfish, and great whites. Ok, that’s not entirely true. It was more like bluefish. Or really pretty much any fish. The important thing was that we were on a boat and we had snacks.

As we made our way out of the bay, I soaked up the scene. On the starboard side, I saw a brightly colored buoy. On the port side, I saw a modest lighthouse. Dead ahead, I saw our intrepid captain piloting the seaworthy vessel. It was good to be back on the open water.

Perhaps it was the gentle rolling of the waves or maybe it was the salty air, but whatever the reason, I began to think about how those nautical things around me related to our pursuit of success and happiness in our lives.

• The buoy. A buoy floats in place, tossed about by the whims of the tides and the waves. It doesn’t sink, but it doesn’t really go anywhere either. Its focus seems to be survival in the moment and a pursuit of equilibrium.
• The lighthouse. Like the buoy, the lighthouse isn’t headed anywhere fast. On the other hand, the lighthouse has found firm ground. It stands resolute and steadfast, having made peace with its present station and purpose.
• The captain. The captain has someplace to be. The captain has a destination – a goal – in mind, a plan to get there, and a power source (fuel, wind, etc.) to ensure steady progress. The captain may choose to change course along the way, but at any given time, the captain always has a bias for action.

While all three are subject to the same elements – the same winds, the same rains, the same sun, the same poop-laden seagulls – each manages the present reality in a very different way.

In my experience, too many people are like buoys in their lives. They lack both direction and the determination to get somewhere. They have no solid footing, so they’re tossed about by the circumstances of their lives. Unfortunately, this may last for years at a time, and they often find themselves both frustrated by what they lack and by not having a clear idea about how to live any differently.

A small number of people I know are like lighthouses. They are sufficiently happy with (or accepting of) their present position. They don’t have future goals, but they also don’t have a sense that something is missing in their lives. They’ve made peace with who they are and where they are, so they stand pat.

There’s a special place in my heart for life’s captains. These are individuals who have a sense of possibility, of some better place to be (or a better person to become). They are moving, and there is hope in their determination and grit. Even if their destination lacks pinpoint GPS-like precision, they move directionally and adjust as needed.

Which of these best describes you? Buoy? Lighthouse? Captain? (Yarrgh.) At times, I’ve certainly felt like a buoy. I used to lack clear direction, and I was discontent to find myself floating along. Today, I’m pleased to be more of a captain. I don’t know exactly how my seafaring journey will develop, of course, but there’s wind at my back and blue skies ahead.

Even if you’re not a captain right now, it’s never too late to grab the wheel. You can set a goal (even a very small one to start) and chart a course to achieve it. You can do it today, but nobody can do it for you.

For my part, I’m happy to serve as your first mate. I’ll be the Tennille to your Captain. (Wait…what?) Drop me a line and tell me about your goals – I’d love to hear about them. Considering that I didn’t catch any fish, I’ve got plenty of time on my hands on my hands.